The Interviewer and Vayne Solidor
by Dufrene Party of Two
Summary: Vayne finds the need to explain himself for his actions however a rather offbeat interviewer seems to be asking... the wrong sort of questions. Warning: This interview is rated ‘M’ for harsh language, sexual references, and drug abuse references.


**Warning:** This interview is rated 'M' for harsh and at times descriptive language, sexual references, and drug abuse references.

**Notice:** This story has been re-formatted to fit with the terms of agreement.

**The Interviewer and Vayne Solidor**

On a small hill, in the middle of absolutely nowhere lies a hut where people can confess their sins. Kind of like confession, however the author is not the type of person to shove religion down your throat. Therefore, it is merely a hut on a hill in the middle of nowhere. I

"Hi, I'm Interviewer, here to interview… ermm… you!" Interviewer enters the hut, carrying a clipboard. The figure seems incredibly enthusiastic and somewhat of an incompetent idiot.

In the room sits a very impatient former consul of Dalmasca. He looks up at the mysterious figure. "Vayne Solidor." He sighs, shaking his head, why did he always get the incompetent idiots to listen to his confessions in a hut on top of a small hill in the middle of nowhere? It just wasn't right.

"You are brilliant my friend!" The interviewer's head shakes vigorously as if at a death metal concert. "Why I believed you just answered my first question in my line of questioning."

"Can we move on please? I have important topics to discuss."

"Oh?"

Vayne becomes a little more at ease, and prepares to explain his reasons for making his journey. "Like why I poisoned my father, why I imprisoned the senate, why I aspire to be the Dynast King, etcetera, etcetera."

Note at this time that the interviewer stares off into space, drools and is possibly picturing Vayne on a unicycle in a thong wearing a pearl necklace. "Interesting… let's start off with, what's your favorite color?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, it says right here on my clip board that one may discover their sexual type based on their favorite color."

"…You have to be kidding me."

"No, nuh uh, wouldn't do that to you sir, nuh uh." The Interviewer takes out the clipboard pointing to the print. See, right here It really does say that."

Understandingly Vayne quickly becomes annoyed and slightly homicidal, "If I answer can we move on to a more pressing issue?"

"Yep, yes sir, the people have to know!"

Vayne scratches his head. Did he have a favorite color? "Uhh…black."

"Now, are you sure about that?"

"Positive."

"Alrighty then," Interviewer scans clipboard mouthing the word black._ "_Ahh, and I quote: 'BLACK: A good many people will choose black as their favorite color, without really thinking about the question. Those people who really do have a black color preference are rare. It points to a liking for black sex. These people are the misfits of the sex world and seek out each other in kinship. They tend to prefer perverted sex and are usually masochistic or sadistic in nature. They are moody people and often perform at their peak when under stress or during unhappy times. Police psychiatrists claim that sex offenders prefer the color black. And it is no coincidence that the uniform of monsters and teenage gangs is black attire.'"

It is noted at this time in Interviewer's handy dandy clipboard that Vayne is considerably uncomfortable.

The Interviewer laughs condescendingly and replied, "Different strokes man, different strokes."

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, "Can we move on, please?"

The Interviewer's eyes brighten and a finger scans the clipboard. "Okay, if you were stuck on an island and you could only bring one thing with you, what would you bring?"

"This, _this_ is pressing. The questions asked so far are cliché and irrelevant." Vayne's homicidal thoughts gradually increase.

The Interviewer who was caught again staring into space, possibly envisioning Vayne's dead father pole dancing with Oprah, returns to the conversation with, "Wha... What?"

"Is it possible I could get a competent interviewer?"

"I asked you first."

"Asked me what first?"

"I'm sorry, but I refuse to answer that."

"Why?"

"Answer the question and I'll tell you why, GOSH." Interviewer is very pleased with the second rate impression of Napoleon Dynamite.

Vayne twitches in annoyance and his homicidal thoughts lessen as his suicidal thoughts increase. "If I were on an island I would bring a gun to shoot myself, okay, are you happy now?"

Interviewer claps his hands together like a small child on Christmas and giggles like a hyena. "Incredibly so, which brings me to my next question… have you ever gone Robotripping?"

"Robo…whating?"

"Robotripping, you know. Break out a bottle of Robitussin DXM man, and just chug that shit." Though Interviewer looks in a reminiscent gaze, we can never be certain these thoughts don't pertain to whipping Vayne's little brother Larsa with a Cat o' Nine tails and dressing him up in a little school girl outfit.

"No. I have never gone 'robotripping'."

An eyebrow is raised by the interviewer. "What about 'shrooms?"

"…"

"Man, I remember this one time, I was on those 'shrooms, and just… whoa."

"No. I've never done any drugs."

Interviewer becomes frustrated and looks on the clipboard to see what information had been gathered. "So you'll admit to the world that you poisoned your father, want to be the next Dynast King, you're a flaming homosexual and your name is Vayne Solidor, but you won't admit to smoking a little hashish now and again, eh?"

"What? I am NOT a flaming homosexual."

"Yes, yes that was my mistake" Interviewer, at this time, takes out a pen and looks to be making notes, but could just be drawing a picture of the imperial judges having an orgy. "You are a _closeted_ homosexual."

"I am not, and I repeat, a homosexual, not a flaming homosexual, not a closeted homosexual, not any other kind of homosexual, understand?"

All of a sudden, the interviewer looks much more intelligent, and glasses appear on the interviewer, as well as a pocket protector. "Well, homosexuality is defined as sexual desire within the same sex. And let's face facts; everybody knows you and the good doctor are doing the dirty, if you know what I mean." With the last statement these features cease from existence and the interviewer is left again looking like a somewhat incompetent idiot.

"I am not—"

Completely ignoring the protesting of Vayne, the interviewer continues on, "The real question is then, top or bottom?"

"What on earth—this is ridiculous… I-I can't believe I'm even having this conversation. I don't understand how I could be sucked into this madness…"

"Pitcher or Catcher? Fucker or Fuckee? Hmm, you seem like the pillow breather sort to me."

"If you don't change the subject I'm going to kill you."

"Could you be any vaguer?" The subject of threats seemed to excite the Interviewer.

"What?"

"And you said I was cliché, the whole 'I'm going to kill you' fad died out years ago."

"Then how do you suggest I threaten you?"

The interviewer stretches, and begins to give a lesson in new age threatening. "Use specifics, and curse a lot more. Don't be afraid to be loud, like: If you don't change the GOD BE DAMNED MOTHERFUCKING SUBJECT, I'm going to bash in your skull with my waffle iron, tie you up BUCK FUCKING NAKED to a tree in freezing ass temperatures and slowly cut off your cock with a plastic knife because my DRUNK ASS WHORE of a mother doesn't trust me with any other kind! Then I'll make you eat it RAW with a SPOON. And if you fail to choke on your own lack of masculinity I will stab you repeatedly in the neck with a pen. Comprende?"

"Well… it does paint a pretty vivid picture."

"Exactly. Well, I think that should do it for this interview session. It was a pleasure meeting you… you!"

"VAYNE FUCKING SOLIDOR!"

Interviewer smiles a psychotic grin, "Makes me all tingly inside to see another take my advice. Adios."

Vayne scratches his head in confusion. "Wait… it's over?"

"Yes, it is."

"But… but, we've accomplished nothing."

"You have much to learn my young padawan."

"This is Final Fantasy XII, not Star Wars you idiot."

The interviewer suddenly bursts into a maniacal laughter, interviewer's eyes bulge out of interviewer's sockets, and interviewer sprouts little wings and flutters away into the distance to live happily ever after with interviewer's clipboard, and yes, you shall never know whether or not interviewer is a man, woman, or an it, you just won't… so stop trying.

**Disclaimer**: I do_ not _own any part of Final Fantasy XII. Also, the information provided on the 'black' sexual type is not mine either; credit is due to an internet site, personality something or other. Everything else: me.


End file.
